three flashes


I just learned from an online writer-friend that the latest issue of Oprah magazine contains flash fiction — eight stories, to be exact, including pieces by Amy Hempel and A.M. Homes.

And to think, a very short time ago I was buying magazines in a drugstore: fitness and fashion and entertainment trash. I saw that latest issue of O and merely glanced at it with disdain.

Damn. Damn. Damn.


Apparently our friend David has been chosen by PEOPLE magazine as one of this country’s most eligible bachelors. Apparently this was even announced on a recent episode of that bastion of hard-hitting journalism, Extra!.

We who know David are amused.

A bit bewildered, perhaps. But amused.


And it turns out that our friend Bill the Hotel Guy, he of the hardworking and hard-partying ways and the lost-romantic soul, who very recently declared his intention to stop dating the Sweet Young Things he meets in clubs — and find a woman of intellect and substance who might even be as old as, wait for it, 30!— is now dating, or has been on some form of date with, the daughter of a prominent politician, whom he met at a CAA event devoted to clean energy in general and a new electric car in particular, and who is currently working towards a med school degree. (And who, I believe, is not quite yet 30 but also not far off.)

I have not verified the details with Bill himself, so I probably shouldn’t even be blogging this, in which case I might delete this later, but holy crap. That was fast.

And to think I was so cynical….


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